


The darling buds of Gay

by Hangmans_Radio



Series: Victorian Gardens AU [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, And I'm not sorry, Come on, Fluff and Smut, Genital Piercing, Gerard has top energy, Grant in a kilt, I mean people, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Oral Sex, Seriously why hasn't Grant in a kilt been done before?, This is just fan service but to myself, and Grant is a lovesick puppy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26175847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hangmans_Radio/pseuds/Hangmans_Radio
Summary: Titles are really hard and I just couldn't resist this one, I am so sorry.A sort of addition to Sowing the Seed but can be read as a standalone fic. There's no 'real' plot, just a lot of romantic nonsense laced together with some smut.Grant is the lord of the manor and Gerard his gardener, and after pining for one another for quite long enough, they finally do something about it.
Relationships: Grant Morrison/Gerard Way
Series: Victorian Gardens AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900891
Comments: 19
Kudos: 57





	The darling buds of Gay

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends!
> 
> So I loved writing Sowing the Seed so much that I couldn't resist coming back to that verse for another play around. And it's been so much fun I'm thinking I'm going to make it a collection that I can come back to time and again, whenever I feel like it. I don't know how big of a collection it will end up - the allure may fade, who knows - but right now I have a lot of little scenes I want to write with these two, so I hope you'd like to join me <3
> 
> This can be read as a standalone fic, but for those of you who have read Sowing the Seed, you will notice some discrepancies in the details (namely, one genital piercing) but through the magic of fiction we're just going to pretend it was always a thing and that I'm not adding my kinks as I go along, okay? Okay. 
> 
> Now, have fun my lovelies!

“If I may sir, you look incredibly handsome.” Mrs Jones had hearts in her eyes as she looked at Grant, her hands clasped in front of her chest. She looked like a proud mother about to send her sixteen year old daughter to her debutante ball, rather than the housekeeper of a fifty year old nobleman. 

“I’ve invited practically every eligible young lady in Scotland,” Mrs Jones said brightly as she smoothed out the lapels of Grant’s jacket, fussing over him like a mother hen, “we’ll find you a wife by the end of the night, just you heed my words.” She was laughing as she said it, but Grant had no doubt that she really did mean it. 

“Mrs Jones...” he sighed heavily, but in the end he just rolled his eyes and gave her a fond, slightly impatient smile. “Thank you for all your hard work,” he said eventually, taking her hand and gently kissing it, “tonight would not have been possible without you.”

Frankly, the entire evening had been Mrs Jones’ idea. As soon as she heard that Grant intended to stay a while, she’d been itching to get a formal event underway so that the house could be once again full of light and music and dancing. 

Grant had been easily swayed towards the idea when Gerard had mentioned how nice it would be to have people around to admire the gardens, and Mrs Jones was so eager to plan the whole affair that it was no hardship for Grant to simply let her get on with it. 

“If your parents could see you now…” Mrs Jones’ eyes were starting to sparkle in the lamplight and her voice had gone thick with emotion. Grant was eager to avoid any tears so he hurriedly turned her around and steered her downstairs.

“Would you mind checking everything is ready for our guests Mrs Jones?” He asked quickly, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze. “I want tonight to be perfect.”

“Oh yes of course.” Mrs Jones didn’t need any persuading. She was much more eager to impress than Grant was, and she trotted away at a quick pace, intent on giving every last detail a critical once over. Grant watched her go with a fond smile, shaking his head slowly. 

He had to admit, the ball had been wonderful for focusing the staff’s attention. The entire household had been invigorated by it, and for weeks everywhere Grant turned he saw servants bustling around, doing three jobs at once. Every room in the manor had been given a deep clean and the groundsman, Willie, had been pulled hither and thither with repair jobs to do.

Even the gardens, which had already been in a much better state than Grant had ever seen them, were spruced up even more, with clear pathways laid out for people to follow and the long driveway to the manor neatened and lined with young evergreens.

It was Gerard’s excitement that had pleased Grant the most, even if it did mean the gardener was too busy to stop and talk to him much. Grant was trying very hard not to follow Gerard around like a lost puppy, but he was drawn to the man like a moth to flame, and when he wasn’t trying to steal some of his time, he simply didn’t know what else to do with himself.

Grant sighed heavily as he turned back into his room, holding the kilt pin Mrs Jones had brought to him in his hand. He wished that he could invite Gerard to the ball, but he couldn’t even think of a job for him to do so that he could be there with the other staff. It pained Grant, because despite Mrs Jones’ attempts to find him a bride, there was only one person Grant wanted to dance with that night.

Still, appearances were important and in the few weeks Grant had spent at the manor so far, he was beginning to appreciate that he had a reputation to uphold. It was a reputation that the men of his family had taken pride in, and now that his father was gone, all the parties and the rubbing shoulders with the elite, the running of the estate and the reputation of the family name all fell on him.

It was a far cry from the life he had been living in London, but Grant was surprised to find he slotted into his place at home easily enough. Even the kilt he had donned for the ball - the first kilt he had worn since his teens - had gone on without thought. He had dressed himself, refusing any help, and had only taken pause when he tied his brogues, and even then only to try and remember whether he favoured the front tie or the side tie.

The tartan was the green, red and blue of the Morrison clan, newly tailored for Grant. He didn’t enjoy frivolous spending on clothes (though Mrs Jones had pulled a face when Grant had said as much), and so he’d had one of his fathers tarnished old sporrans polished by Willie, and it looked good as new. The kilt pin was also his fathers, but Mrs Jones had been proud enough to hand it to him. It had been passed down from generation to generation, a heavy silver casting of the family crest. It had been polished too, and it glittered in the lamplight as Grant carefully pinned it into place.

When he looked in the mirror, self-consciously tugging at the hem of his formal jacket, he saw more of his father looking back than himself. His chest tightened with a mix of emotions, and for a while he could only stare at his reflection, torn between pride and sorrow. He had never been overly close to either of his parents, but that was the nature of being born to an aristocratic family. It didn’t mean that grief didn’t sometimes sneak up on him.

Grant turned away from the mirror and took a deep breath, making his way out of his room and downstairs with long, determined strides. He had attended plenty of functions back in London, but he had never hosted one before. He was surprised by how nervous he felt.

As if reading his mind, one of the kitchen girls was waiting in the hall with a tray of champagne. Grant took a glass with a grateful smile and sipped at it as he drifted around, waiting for the guests to arrive.

He wasn’t waiting long, and once the first turned up, the rest followed in quick succession.

Before Grant had a chance to even think, he had shaken hands and kissed the cheeks of more men and women than he could count. Some he recognised, and some he knew only from reputation. Pure instinct guided him, and he fell back on the charm that he had used for most of his life. He smiled easily and greeted his guests with confidence, letting the staff guide them to the ballroom as he stood in the entrance hall.

When at last he was able to get away, he found the ballroom full of bodies, the music of the band almost swallowed up by the noise of chatter and laughter. For a moment Grant just had to stop and look at all the people filling up the space that had been so long left dusty and unused. Now the room glittered with kilt pins and expensive jewelry, the women dressed in beautiful gowns and the men in the traditional kilts of their clans. It was exciting but overwhelming, and Grant opened up the dancefloor quickly, before he could lose his nerve. 

“I thank you all for coming.” He said loudly once he’d stood at the head of the room and gained everyone’s attention by tapping his glass. “It has been a good many years since this house saw such a beautiful sight. Please, dance and enjoy yourselves, you are all most welcome.” 

Grant’s father had always liked to make grand speeches, but Grant was a writer, not an orator, and he got away fast. No one seemed to mind, and within minutes plenty of couples had taken to the dancefloor. 

Grant milled around, mingling as he was supposed to and trying his best to make sure every guest was happy and looked after. It was made much easier by having a team of such wonderful staff, who were all bustling about with trays of canapes and champagne, ensuring no one was left wanting.

Just as Mrs Jones had promised, intermixed with the married couples and the men of importance, there were plenty of young, attractive women all trying to catch his eye. They had lined themselves up at one side of the dancefloor, and no matter how Grant tried to avoid it, he could feel them staring at him, willing him to come and ask for a dance.

He was glad that there were enough young men to keep the ladies occupied, for the most part, and made a point of not dancing at all. He did enjoy it, but it was much easier to stand in groups of men and discuss politics than it was to face the minefield that was the dancefloor.

For a couple of hours, Grant was the perfect host, but eventually he had to admit he needed a breath of fresh air. The role of perfect host didn’t suit him quite so naturally as he’d like, and as soon as he saw his chance, he slipped away out of the french doors and into the gardens where he could take a moment to be alone.

Outside, the night air was crisp and cool, a welcome relief to Grant’s hot cheeks. He had brought his champagne saucer with him, mostly without thinking, and he downed the rest as he strode away from the house. He was hoping no one would notice him leave, though it wasn’t entirely dark outside. Gerard had gone through the trouble of hanging little lanterns on the trees, or placing them down on the ground to create a trail to the water gardens.

The first time Grant had seen them, he had thought over how lovely they would be to visit during an event such as this. He’d imagined couples coming to sit on the lovers benches and admire the moonlight on the pond, but he was glad that for now at least, he appeared to be the only person here.

Still, he was conscious that some happy couple might wander down at any moment, so he strayed away from the lantern path and walked about the far end of the pond instead. It was much darker here, with the moon hidden behind a cloud, but Grant had walked these gardens enough now to know his way.

There was a little secret bench tucked against the trunk of a weeping willow, accessed only by stepping through the curtain of dangling branches. It was one of Grant’s favourite places, secret enough to feel private, but not so hidden that he couldn’t see beyond the willow leaves and admire the starlight where it was reflected in the water. 

Grant sat down on the bench, reaching behind himself to brush the fabric of his kilt forward so that the cold stone wouldn’t chill his thighs as he settled against it. He placed his now empty champagne saucer on the bench beside him and then leaned back to rest against the trunk of the tree, taking a deep breath of satisfaction.

Out here, in the cool night air, completely alone, he felt completely at ease. He felt the tight knot of anxiety start to loosen in his chest, making it easier to breathe, and he relaxed against the willow tree as he listened to the music that floated from the ballroom doors. It was light and ethereal this far from the house; Grant could imagine that it was music created by the wind, like ghost notes that drifted along in the memory of a time long since passed.

Grant closed his eyes as he listened to it, thinking about his parents and the grand balls they used to throw; about London and all the parties he had attended there; about Gerard, and how much he wished he could dance with him…

Suddenly, the crunch of a footfall on gravel made Grant’s eyes flick open and he leaned forward, heart racing. The step had been too close for comfort, someone was walking barely a few feet away from him by the sounds of it.

Pale fingers suddenly appeared around the weeping branches of the willow, sweeping them slowly aside like a curtain and Grant’s heart seemed to both fly up into his throat and drop into his stomach at the same time. 

“Oh!” Gerard jumped in surprise when he saw Grant, and even in the darkness his blush was obvious. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realise you were -”

“Please, please don’t apologise.” Grant almost fell off the bench in his haste to move aside and make room for Gerard. “Come, join me. What brings you out here this late?” He was talking quickly - too quickly - overly eager to persuade Gerard to stay. 

“I just wanted to come and listen to the music for a little while.” Gerard smiled shyly as he sat down beside Grant, hyper-aware of how close they were on the small bench. “I didn’t realise anyone else knew about this place.”

Grant beamed, oddly thrilled to know about something that Gerard had kept private. “I love coming here.” He said softly, looking at Gerard’s profile with a racing heart. “It’s so peaceful.” 

“I think so too.” Gerard looked at Grant and then quickly looked away again when the movement brought their faces so close together. “When the moon comes out and shines on the water it’s so-” Gerard trailed off, laughing quietly when right on cue, a cloud slid away from the moon and the pond water began to sparkle with silvery light. 

Grant’s breath hitched and for a moment he was speechless. He felt like something magical was happening, and his feelings for Gerard increased tenfold. He wanted desperately to reach out and touch his hand, but he didn’t dare.

Gerard looked at Grant again, his eyes flicking over his formal jacket and kilt now he could see him clearer. “Shouldn’t you be inside?” He asked softly, wondering what had made Grant leave his party to sit outside all alone in the dark. 

“I should.” Grant nodded, still gazing out at the pale light on the pond. “I just needed a break.” He didn’t quite know how to explain the feeling of being overwhelmed, but he got the feeling he didn’t need to. The silence between him and Gerard was warm and understanding.

For a while they sat quietly together, listening to the ghostly music and admiring the dazzle of the moonlight on the pond water. The light created shadows on the ground in front of them that moved lazily with the swaying of the willow branches. It reminded Grant of candlelight on a dancefloor, and he looked at Gerard who was swaying slightly as he hummed along to the music.

“Would you… like to dance?” Grant asked, speaking before he could think about it and talk himself out of it. He held a hand out towards Gerard, flooding with hope and fear. 

Gerard looked at Grant’s outstretched hand, his lips parting in surprise. “Really?” He asked quietly, looking to Grant’s face like he wasn’t sure if he was making fun of him or not. When he realised that he was being serious, he found himself reaching out to touch his fingers to his palm, his heart missing a beat when Grant closed his fingers around them. 

“I don’t know how to dance.” Gerard said weakly, though he rose easily to his feet when Grant stood up. 

“That’s okay.” Grant somehow managed to sound perfectly calm as he turned to face Gerard and touched his other hand to his upper back. “I can lead.” 

Gerard’s heart was beating so quickly he felt almost faint and he lay his other hand on Grant’s shoulder if only because he was afraid he would fall if he didn’t grab hold of him. He expected Grant to pull him in close - wanted him to even - but Grant kept him at arm's length, creating a space between them that Gerard understood was proper. He had never danced before, not like this, but he knew the basics. He knew that they were to create a frame with their arms so they each had their own space, and he understood that the gentleman always led the way; which he supposed meant that he was the woman in this scenario, but he didn’t mind that. Grant had broad, strong shoulders, and he was taller than Gerard too, which made Gerard want to swoon in his arms like a lady might do.

“This a waltz.” Grant said after a moment of listening to the music drifting on the breeze. “We’ll keep it simple. You start on the right foot, you step forward, together, across, together in a box step.” 

Gerard blinked, confused, but then Grant started to move and he followed him so easily he almost laughed. He had seen people dancing before, and though he couldn’t see a woman’s legs behind their gowns, he could see the men’s and he realised what Grant meant as they began to dance slowly around their little secret space. 

“One two three, one two three,” Grant counted for him at first, but once he knew Gerard had it he stopped and just let the music guide them, “excellent. You’re a natural.” He said proudly, making Gerard smile and blush. 

“Thank you.” He laughed, not believing it for a second but grateful for the compliment all the same. He’d always wanted to dance like this; he would imagine himself in crowded ballrooms, turning and twirling around the dancefloor. It was his most private, darkest fantasy, that he would dance with another man just like this… and that this was happening, _really_ happening, and with Grant of all people… Gerard’s heart felt fit to burst and he expected to wake up at any moment.

The joy on Gerard’s face was so obvious that Grant’s nerves didn’t get a chance to take over. He would worry later, probably, about how dangerous it was to ask one’s male gardener to dance with one in the moonlight, but right then it was worth the risk. The willow branches kept them hidden from view, and if Gerard was alarmed by the idea of dancing with another man then he clearly wasn’t thinking about it right now.

“I’ve always wanted to dance like this.” Gerard laughed as Grant twirled him around, never faltering in his steps. 

“Really?” Grant was surprised and thrilled to learn something new about Gerard. 

“Of course!” Gerard beamed as the music picked up in tempo and he and Grant moved faster, their dancing so seamless that Gerard felt like he was floating. “Doesn’t everyone want to be twirled around by some handsome man?” 

For the first time, Grant fumbled in his steps. He nearly tripped over his own feet, and Gerard crashed into him as a result. Grant couldn’t stop himself from staring at Gerard in surprise, and after their sudden bumbling, he saw the moment that Gerard realised what he had said. 

“Oh, oh I didn’t mean-” He blushed hard and Grant was mortified to see tears well up in Gerard’s eyes. He tried to get out of Grant’s grip, pushing away from him forcefully. “I didn’t mean that I’m… That I… I don’t mean that-”

“It’s okay!” Grant found his tongue at last and rushed to pull Gerard back, grabbing at his hands desperately. “Please don’t go!”

Gerard tried to pull out of Grant’s grip, so embarrassed and afraid that he couldn’t seem to make his legs work properly. The grace and beauty he’d felt when he was dancing had all disappeared and he felt like the worlds biggest fool as he turned to run. 

“Gerard, please!” Grant followed him, running across the uneven ground as Gerard tore from his grip. “Gerard - agh!”

Grant’s foot caught on a root and he crashed to the ground, twisting his ankle as he went. He fell hard, hard enough to make his teeth rattle, but the pain was nothing compared to the wave of humiliation that made his face go red. He’d never felt more stupid and cumbersome in his life, and suddenly he didn’t want Gerard to come back anymore… but of course he did. 

“Grant?” Gerard’s heart felt like it stopped when he heard him fall and he rushed back to his side without thinking. When he saw him sprawled in the dirt, his formal clothes ruined, he felt such a surge of hurt that the tears in his eyes threatened to fall. 

“Oh God, are you okay?” Gerard tried to help Grant up, but the other man was already pushing up onto his hands, too embarrassed to meet Gerard’s eye. 

“I’m fine.” He tried to insist, but his voice was thick with pain. “I’m fine, really, you don’t need to-” Grant tried to brush Gerard’s hands away, but as he lifted to his feet he gasped and grabbed suddenly onto Gerard, his ankle buckling. 

“You’re hurt!” Gerard sounded ready to weep, which only made Grant feel worse. “I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.”

“Your fault?” Grant couldn’t help but laugh weakly at that, leaning heavily against Gerard as he balanced all of his weight onto his other foot. “It’s not your fault I’m a clumsy fool. Please don’t feel upset.”

“But if I hadn’t ran…” Gerard bit his lip and tightened his grip around Grant’s waist before pulling his arm to rest around his shoulders. “Let me help you back to the house, you can’t walk like this.”

Grant hated to admit it, but Gerard was right. “Thank you.” He sighed, holding onto him tight as they began an awkward, three-legged walk back to the manor.

They were silent as they went, other than Grant’s pained, laboured breathing; but there was much that needed to be said. Grant could feel it hanging between them like the sword of Damocles, but he couldn’t catch his breath enough to say anything. 

Gerard was thoughtful enough to take Grant to the front door of the house, rather than back through the ballroom, but when they reached the stairs, Grant stopped him. 

“I can’t… can’t leave my guests.” He sighed, though all he wanted to do was go to his room and hide away for the foreseeable future. “I have to see this night through…”

Gerard looked at Grant in surprise, his eyebrows lifting. “You can barely stand.” He pointed out, as if Grant wasn’t already aware. “And your clothes are all dirty… at least let me help you change.” 

Grant could think of nothing more dangerous than allowing Gerard to so much as remove his shoes. Even with his ankle throbbing in pain, he didn’t think that for one moment his body wouldn’t react if Gerard touched him like that. 

“I’m fine. Really. Just… Just sit me down here and fetch Mrs Jones, she’ll sort me out.” 

Grant didn’t miss the look of hurt on Gerard’s face, and it made guilt mingle in with his embarrassment and discomfort, but Gerard just nodded and helped him sit on the stairs before heading in the direction of the kitchens.

Grant sighed heavily and lay his head in his hands, wondering how things had gone so bad so quickly. He was mortified, he wanted simply to hide, but he couldn’t abandon his guests. 

A hot trickle of blood ran like a teardrop down his leg, dripping from his knee which he hadn’t even realised he had grazed in his fall. Grant used his handkerchief to dab it away, just in time for Mrs Jones to come tearing down the hallway towards him.

“Oh my goodness, what _happened?_ ” She cried, her face pale and anxious. “Mr Way said you had a fall?”

“Yes, just a small one.” Grant forced a smile for Mrs Jones’ sake. “I’m fine, honestly. I just need to be made presentable again so I can finish hosting-”

“No, I don’t think so.” Mrs Jones had her most sternest voice on, the tone that reminded Grant of childhood and he baulked. “Look at your ankle, it’s swelling already.” Mrs Jones grabbed a candle from one of the many burning holders about the hall and held it closer to Grant’s ankle so she could take a proper look. 

“Ach, you might even have broken it.” She worried, her fingers hovering an inch away from it. “You’re to go right upstairs to bed to rest it. And if it’s worse in the morning I’ll send out for a doctor.” 

Gerard, who had followed nervously behind Mrs Jones, immediately offered to help Grant upstairs. 

“But what about the guests?” Grant asked blankly. He didn’t want his first ever ball to be a complete failure, and he was pretty certain that having the host disappear barely an hour into proceedings counted as such. 

“I’ll be sure to explain to anyone who asks that you’ve been called away on urgent business, but that they’re to enjoy themselves for as long as they like.” Mrs Jones said firmly. “We have enough food and drink to keep them going for weeks if they want to, so don’t you worry about a thing. Come the morning they’ll all be drunk and merry and won’t even remember you were gone.”

Grant pulled a face but he didn’t argue. Besides the fact that he was actually quite relieved to get away, there was never any point in trying to argue with Mrs Jones. 

“Alright.” He said, grabbing the banister to heave himself up onto his good foot. Gerard immediately rushed forward to support him, and Grant held onto him gladly. “I’ll retire then… but please don’t worry. I don’t need any fuss, it’s just a twisted ankle.” He insisted, knowing the look in Mrs Jones’ eye full well. Left to her worrying, Grant would no doubt wake up to find a surgeon by his bed.

Mrs Jones didn’t look convinced, but she pursed her lips and nodded anyway, and promised to check on Grant first thing in the morning. 

“Are you sure you can manage Mr Way?” She asked Gerard, touching his arm. “I can find someone to help-”

“I’m fine, thank you Mrs Jones.” Gerard interrupted her with a smile. “He’s not too heavy.” 

Grant snorted and rolled his eyes, and Mrs Jones even laughed a little. “Alright then, well… do shout if you need me.” 

Once she had strode back down the hall towards the ballroom, Grant looked at Gerard and blushed. “Thank you for helping me…” He said quietly. 

“I’d save your thanks until we make it upstairs.” Gerard chuckled, trying to be playful but his eyes were full of hurt. “I don’t know how painless I can make this.”

“I’m made of stronger stuff than you might think.” Grant grinned, but his smile soon fell as they began their difficult ascent. 

Grant’s ankle was not improved by the short respite, and each stair forced him to hop on his good foot, supported by Gerard’s body from one side and the banister on the other. He clung to both with a death grip and tried not to let on how much it hurt to jostle his bad ankle every time he hopped up another step.

By the time they had made it to the top, Grant could feel sweat beading across his forehead, and he grimaced as they limped along the hallways to his bedroom. He suddenly wished he hadn’t taken a room so far from the main staircase, and he groaned with relief when they finally made it and he was able to flop down onto his bed.

“Thank you Gerard.” He said breathlessly, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “I really appreciate your help.”

“It’s nothing.” Gerard walked about the room, lighting the lamps and drawing the curtains as though he were a housemaid, and then he filled Grant’s washbowl with the jug of fresh water beside it. Grant watched him in silent amazement, his brows lifting as Gerard carried the basin over and placed it on the floor, then got down onto his knees beside the bed as though he were planning to pray. 

“What are you doing?” Grant asked softly, trying not to sound as alarmed as he felt. 

“You’re bleeding.” Gerard was pink in the cheeks as he looked up at Grant. “And you’re covered in dirt. I was going to wash you… if… if that’s okay?”

Grant began to suspect he’d fallen harder than he’d realised and that this was some sort of coma dream. His pulse began to thunder and he squeezed his legs together nervously, stammering and struggling to think of what to say. 

“It’s the least I can do.” Gerard insisted, reaching out to start untying Grant’s brogues. “As long as I’m not making you uncomfortable.” 

“You’re not.” Grant whispered, though he sounded choked and unsure about that. “But you really don’t have to, I’m honestly fine, I’m-”

“It’s my pleasure. I insist.” Gerard sounded much sterner than Grant thought he was capable of and he quickly shut his mouth. He watched quietly, heart racing and hands trembling, as Gerard carefully untied each brogue and slipped them from his feet, and then released the sock garters so that he could roll the knee length socks down Grant’s calf and gradually off his feet.

“Say if I hurt you.” Gerard said gently, cradling the back of Grant’s calf with one calloused hand, whilst the other lifted the washcloth to his knee. 

Grant opened his mouth to insist he wasn’t some hapless maiden, but his words got lost on a soft hiss of pain when the cloth touched the grazed skin of his knee. Gerard winced along with him and looked up at him with a pained expression.

“I’m fine.” Grant quickly insisted, though his voice was strained. “Really.”

Gerard didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t challenge Grant. He kept his touch light as he dabbed the blood away and then carefully scrubbed at the dirt caked into his skin. He tried to be gentle, but it wasn’t possible to not scrub at the dirt, if he had any hope of cleaning it. Grant just clenched his teeth and kept quiet, glad of the pain which was the only thing stopping him from reacting to seeing Gerard on his knees in front of him.

He wasn’t sure what was worse - the view or the pain - but the torture seemed endless. It took Gerard far longer than expected to clean up Grant’s knee to the point that he was satisfied, and whilst he worked he kept shifting his fingers on the back of Grant’s calf, making his pulse quicken a little more every time.

When finally he was done, Grant was breathless and desperate for Gerard to leave. He prayed that his reaction wasn’t obvious, and he forced a weak smile when Gerard looked up at him and slowly rose to his feet. 

“All clean.” He said quietly, suddenly at a loss of what to do with himself. He’d acted without thinking, his caring nature taking over, but now he was feeling embarrassed again. “Is… Is there anything else I can help you with, sir?”

Grant blushed at the formality but shook his head. He needed Gerard to leave. 

“No… Thank you. You’ve been a wonderful help.” Grant felt awful as he dismissed Gerard, and he wished desperately that he could talk to him properly about what had happened. “I can undress myself, and I think I’ll just go right to sleep.” 

Gerard nodded once, almost bowing as he turned to leave. 

“Good night then sir.” He said quietly, waiting a beat before his courage failed him and he fled from the room. 

***

The next day, Grant woke up to a sharp pain in his ankle. It was black and blue from his foot to half way up his calf, and he had no choice but to allow Mrs Jones to call for the doctor. 

The man arrived just after lunch, not that Grant had eaten any of it. He was feeling sick, but not from pain. He kept thinking about Gerard and everything that had happened… how wonderful it had felt to dance with him, and what an idiot he had been to even do such a thing. 

Of course, Mrs Jones was quick to tell the doctor that Grant had no appetite, making the man’s prognosis even worse. 

“It’s not broken.” He said with some surprise after poking and prodding enough to make Grant’s eyes water. “But there’s a chance you’ve torn the ligaments. You must rest it in bed for at least a week, and then walk with a cane for the next six.” 

Grant was mortified, but he already knew that Mrs Jones wouldn’t allow him to disobey the doctors orders. 

“I will return in two weeks to see how it’s mending.” The doctor left Grant some laudanum for the pain, and tipped his hat before he left. 

No sooner had he gone than Mrs Jones returned, fussing over Grant and getting him to lay his sore ankle on a mound of pillows that she’d taken from other rooms. 

“You must eat something.” She said worriedly. “Are you sure there’s nothing you fancy? I can get the cook to make anything at all.” 

“Thank you, Mrs Jones, but I really just want to sleep.” Grant smiled weakly at her, his head starting to ache along with his ankle now. He could think of nothing but Gerard, and it was putting him into a heavy, melancholy state. “I’d like to get some more rest, if you don’t mind.”

Mrs Jones looked anxious, but she agreed to leave once she’d spoon fed Grant some laudanum herself. She watched him from the doorway for a moment, but Grant closed his eyes and pretended to sleep, and Mrs Jones left. 

***

Gerard rose with the dawn as he always did, exhausted after a sleepless night. He busied himself by roaming the gardens, checking everything was as it should be after the party. Grant’s guests had left no signs if they’d even visited the gardens, and all Gerard found was the crystal champagne saucer that Grant had been drinking from, left by the bench beneath the willow tree.

Gerard sat down and picked it up, turning it over in his fingers and smiling as he remembered the way they’d danced… How handsome Grant had looked in his formal jacket and kilt… The crystal glass reminded him of the glass slipper that Cinderella wore in the Grimm’s fairy tale, and he blushed as he imagined himself returning the glass to Grant just like the prince returned the shoe in the story.

If only they would be allowed to live happily ever after as well.

All day, Gerard considered taking the glass to the kitchens, but somehow he always managed to find another job to do first. The truth was, the thought of seeing anyone else that day made his heart race. What if Grant had told them what he’d said last night? What if he’d shared his suspicions that Gerard harboured lust for other men? This place was his home now, and he loved his job and all the people who worked here, he couldn’t bear the thought of being kicked out.

Gerard agonised over it all day, but eventually he knew that if he didn’t return the crystal and someone noticed the collection of glasses had one missing, then sooner or later someone would be accused of theft. 

Not wanting anymore reason to draw suspicion to himself, Gerard forced himself to walk to the house, letting himself in through the kitchen door. He was surprised to find several of the staff in there, talking around the great wooden block they chopped produce on. 

“Ah, Mr Way, is everything alright?” Mrs Jones noticed him first, and then quickly after, the glass. “Oh, was that left by a guest?”

“I think so.” Gerard was glad to hand her the glass, passing it over like a hot potato. “I found it in the water gardens.” 

“Thank you for returning it.” Mrs Jones passed it to one of the young women beside her, and the girl walked away to wash it and place it with the others. Gerard turned eagerly to leave, but Mrs Jones called him back. “Oh, Mr Way, I wonder if you might help us?” She said quickly, smiling when Gerard reluctantly turned. “Mr Morrison is in a frightful way. The doctor has seen him and given him some pain relief, but he’s still refusing to eat.” 

Gerard noticed that Mrs Jones had worry lines creased all around her eyes and he softened, biting his lip. 

“I wondered if you might have something he would enjoy?” She asked anxiously. “Some fresh fruit or vegetable in the garden that’s too good to resist?”

Gerard considered a moment, and then slowly nodded. “There’s plenty of vegetables to be had, Mrs Jones. Perhaps a soup could be made?” He wasn’t much of a cook himself, but he loved using the things he had grown to try various soups. “And I have some plums which are perfectly ripe.”

Mrs Jones smiled, delighted. “Perfect. Could you be so kind as to gather what you think is best for us?” She asked eagerly. 

Gerard saw no harm in helping, and was mostly just relieved that no one was treating him any differently. Clearly what had been said last night had not yet been shared with the staff. 

“Certainly, Mrs Jones.” Gerard left the kitchen and hurried to the walled garden with a basket. He needed to see Grant, he decided, to try and set things right before he decided to talk to the staff; and a plan was quickly forming.

Gerard filled the basket with hearty vegetables, picking the best carrots, leeks and potatoes from the crops. He added a particularly nice looking parsnip and some freshly shelled peas that he’d put in a bowl ready for his own dinner, and then picked ten of the sweetest looking plums. 

When he returned to the kitchen Mrs Jones went through the basket with delight. She placed the plums into a dish, talking about making some dessert with them, but Gerard slid the dish over to himself. 

“If I may, Mrs Jones, I wondered if I should take these up to Mr Morrison now.” He said softly, trying to sound calm and confident and not give away how nervous he was feeling. “If he’s lost his appetite, I wondered if it would help for me to talk about the work that went into growing these. I know he cares so much about it, and then he wouldn’t want them to go to waste… I’m sure I could persuade him to taste them and whet his appetite again.”

Mrs Jones looked at Gerard in surprise, and for a heart-stopping moment he thought she was going to laugh in his face. But then, slowly, she smiled and nodded her head. 

“Aye, that sounds wonderful dear.” She agreed. “You head on up and see if you can’t persuade him to eat a little. And we’ll have his soup to him by dinnertime.” 

Gerard nodded and hurried away, carrying the dish of plums with him. His heart was racing, but he was determined to see Grant, say what he had to say, and leave. 

Upstairs, Grant was lying awake in bed, head turned to gaze out of the window at the clouds drifting across the sky. It was all he could see from his vantage point and he wished that his bed were closer to the window so that he could maybe see Gerard whenever he went to the greenhouses.

The door to his room was open, and Gerard felt awfully like a voyeur as he stood in it’s frame, watching Grant. He knocked on the edge of the door quickly, offering a small smile when Grant turned his head to look at him. 

“Excuse me Mr Morrison, I hope you don’t mind but I brought you some plums.” 

Grant blinked, stunned. For a moment he wondered if the laudanum was making his mind play tricks on him, but Grant had been to some of London’s seediest opium dens and his tolerance was at a point where a little medicine shouldn’t mess him up so.

“Gerard?” Grant pushed himself up against his pillows and blushed as Gerard approached him, holding a bowl of sweet, purple plums. Surely he had to be dreaming. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard you weren’t feeling hungry and I wondered if these might help.” Gerard plucked one of the plums from the bowl and held it closer. “I picked them myself today, they’re perfectly ripe and sweet. Try one.”

Grant stared at the plum in silence, too stunned to speak. This really did feel awfully like one of his many fantastical dreams… He dreamt of Gerard often, _too often_ , and all he could think about was how eating fruit straight from his hand was certainly overstepping a boundary.

“I… Thank you.” Grant reached out and took the plum with shaking fingers. “That’s very kind of you. I’ll try them later.” He promised. 

Gerard didn’t look convinced, but he had other things on his mind. He set the bowl down on the bedside table and took a deep breath, forcing himself to be strong as he looked Grant in the eye and said, 

“I actually wanted to ask you a favour.” His whole body went tense and Grant felt a rush of nerves flood his own system when he saw how anxious Gerard looked. “I want to know that you won’t mention anything to the staff about… about last night.”

Grant dropped the plum back into the bowl and sat up straighter, staring at Gerard in horror. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he didn’t like it. 

“You mean the dancing?” He asked quietly, feeling sick to the stomach. “I think I owe you an apology, I-”

“The dancing, and what I said after.” Gerard’s cheeks were starting to burn, but he soldiered on. “I know that you heard me… God, that’s why you’re in this whole sorry mess.” Gerard sounded ready to cry as he gestured to Grant’s bruised ankle. “I wish I could take it back, or pretend it’s not what you think but I won’t insult your intelligence like that.” 

Grant was lost now, truly lost, and Gerard was still speaking as though he didn’t know how to stop. 

“I’m sorry, Mr Morisson, truly I am. I can’t help the way I am, but I swear I don’t act on it. I’ve never so much as k - kissed another man…” Gerard was beet red by now, and Grant’s jaw was starting to hang open despite his attempts to shut his mouth. “I would never, never, _never_ act on it whilst working on your estate, I _promise_. And I know it’s a lot to ask of you but please, please don’t send me away.”

Gerard stopped at last, tears in his eyes, and Grant finally managed to close his jaw with a little snap. His head was swimming and he glanced at the laudanum bottle, trying to decide whether this really was some awful drug induced dream. It seemed the likeliest cause, and so… Grant supposed… _In for a penny, in for a pound_.

“Gerard,” his voice came out pitifully weak and he quickly cleared his throat, blushing slightly himself, “I don’t know what you think is happening here but… but clearly you’ve built up some terrible story in your head that simply isn’t true.” Grant struggled to compose himself, trying to speak kindly but firmly, like a doctor or a friend. 

“I don’t know what you must think of me, to assume I would ever send you away.” It pained Grant just to think about it. “But why do you imagine a man would ask another man to dance with him?” He looked at Gerard, astounded that he hadn’t already figured out the truth for himself. Though… Grant hadn’t dared believe that Gerard could be like him, not even when Gerard had accepted his invitation to dance with barely a second thought. 

Grant began to smile then, amused. They were both fools, it seemed; but better to be hopeless, gentle fools, than cruel men who despised anyone different. 

“Gerard,” Grant tried again when he noticed that Gerard was now staring at him in shock, the cogs in his head almost visible he was concentrating so hard, “my dear fellow… I fear that you and I are rather more similar than you think. And… I’m sorry to admit… I was hoping that might be the case, when I asked you to dance with me and you agreed.” Grant smiled at the memory, trying to cherish those few moments of bliss before it had all gone awry. 

“Wait.” Gerard looked bewildered, and he couldn’t help but worry that this was all some awful trick. “You don’t really mean that you’re…”

“A man in his fifties, still unmarried?” Grant lifted an eyebrow at Gerard, who’s look of shock only increased as the truth became ever more likely. “A man who has lived away from his ancestral home for decades, ensuring all matters of his private life are carried out in a city so choked with people that no one would ever think to look at him twice?” Grant smiled again, shaking his head as Gerard began to look dangerously faint. 

“Do not make me spell it out for you.” Grant begged quietly, his smile turning sad. “Not in my childhood bedroom for goodness sake.” Grant laughed weakly, but he soon fell quiet as worry returned. “Gerard?”

Gerard just went on staring at him, too shocked to speak. He looked around stupidly, as though some sign of the truth would make itself known, because Grant couldn’t mean what he thought he meant. He couldn’t mean _that_.

“Gerard?” Grant struggled to sit up even more, so worried now that he was beginning to wonder if he’d have to shout for help. If Gerard fainted now, Grant had no hope of catching him. 

“Do you mean…” Gerard swallowed thickly, unsure how to phrase his question. There was no word for men like him that didn’t make his skin crawl and his stomach turn over. “Do you mean.. That you… you’ve… K - Kissed other men?” He asked quietly, so quietly he could barely hear himself over the thundering of his own heart. 

Grant’s lips twitched at the corners, amusement softening the sharp edge of his worry. He paused a moment, his own heart racing, unsure whether he should say it. He’d only ever revealed his sexuality to men who were already very obviously about to fall into his bed, when he could be absolutely sure they were what they said they were, but Gerard’s eyes were so gentle and kind… Grant didn’t believe for one moment that he was setting him up. 

“Yes…” He said slowly, smiling properly when Gerard’s cheeks burnt red and his eyes filled with amazement. “I’ve kissed other men, and a good deal more than that too.” 

Gerard’s blush spread right up to his hairline and he turned without thinking, sinking down to sit on the edge of Grant’s bed before his knees could give way. His mind was already turning over what _a good deal more_ might be, and he thought again of Grant’s kilt from the night before, the little strip of bared leg he could see, and the tantalising knowledge of what was hidden… how easy it would be to simply push the fabric up; no unfastening of laces or buttons, no seams to trap an erection inside… 

Gerard squeezed his legs together, mortified, as he felt himself begin to stiffen. 

“I… I h - had no idea… Would never have thought you were…”

“The feeling is mutual.” Grant said softly, watching Gerard closely. “You never gave me any reason to suspect that you were… which is why I must apologise for my behaviour last night.” Grant remembered his desire to apologise and his face went somber again. “I shouldn’t have asked you to dance with me. That was a foolish thing to do, and risky. I shouldn’t have put you into such a difficult situation.”

Gerard looked at Grant in surprise and scoffed. “I could have refused.” He said firmly, losing some of his nervousness to hear Grant talk like that. That they were the same was a revelation, something they surely should be ecstatic about it. 

“You didn’t force me, you didn’t _put_ me into any situation that I didn’t gladly go into myself.” Gerard turned to face Grant properly and dared to lay a hand over Grant’s. “I wanted to dance with you. I… I thought you looked very handsome last night. And when you asked me I was… happy.” 

Grant looked at Gerard through his lashes, his breath catching. “Really?” He asked quietly, gone suddenly weak as Gerard’s fingers brushed higher over the back of his hand, until his index finger grazed over the bones of Grant’s wrist. 

“Yes, really.” Gerard looked down at his fingers, watching with a detached sort of interest as they curled slowly around Grant’s wrist. Grant didn’t push him away; in fact, he slid his hand a little closer, and Gerard felt heat unfurl in his belly.

“Why did you ask me to dance?” Gerard’s fingers slid up the inside of Grant’s wrist, over the delicate bones, and the soft hairs of his arms.

Grant swallowed thickly, his cheeks gone pink. Gerard’s touch was light and inquisitive, and it made his mouth go dry. 

“I… I don’t know.” He lied, turning his hand over slowly, palm up, so Gerard could follow the faint lines of his veins up the underside of his arm. He couldn’t remember what had led to them dancing anymore, only that it had been wonderful. “Did you really think I looked handsome?”

Gerard’s lips quirked against a smile, his eyes never leaving Grant’s arm. “I always think you look handsome.” He said quietly, and his confidence rocketed when he heard a gentle hitch in Grant’s breath. Gerard was almost certain he had never had that effect on anyone before, and he was eager to see what else he could make Grant do. 

“I like that you make the effort to come and talk to me every day.” Gerard’s fingers were creeping closer to the hollow on the inside of Grant’s elbow. “I keep to myself… No one else makes an effort to see me unless they need something…” Gerard slowly lifted his gaze to Grant’s face and his stomach flipped to see how pink his cheeks were. 

“I like coming to see you.” Grant said in a breathless rush, his fingers flexing where his hand lay open on the bed. “I like _you_ Gerard… Very much.” _From the first moment I saw you_ , Grant’s mind supplied unhelpfully, and he pursed his lips shut before he could say anything too damning.

Gerard smiled faintly to himself and looked down again, his own cheeks tinged with warmth. He brushed just his pinky finger into the crook of Grant’s elbow, lingering until he felt his pulse beneath the skin. It felt intimate and exciting, and Gerard was as breathless as Grant. 

“You… You said you’ve never… with another man?” Grant was trying very hard to focus, but even speaking was becoming difficult with Gerard’s fingers on him. When their eyes met again, his brain almost shut down altogether. “Said you never would?”

Gerard bit his lip, wishing now he hadn’t made such a promise. “I did say I wouldn’t…” He said slowly, doubtfully. “I… I don’t want to do anything that will make me lose this job. This place is my home now.” 

“You won’t lose your job.” Grant said quickly, lifting his fingers so he could touch beneath Gerard’s arm, which hovered over his hand. “Not for anything…” He looked into Gerard’s warm, hazel eyes and felt himself weakening further. “And… for the record… I am not in the habit of forcing celibacy upon my staff.” 

Gerard smiled, almost laughed to himself. “Not even staff like me?” He asked quietly. “You mean I can bring a man into my bed, if I wanted to?” It felt terribly perverted and sinful to ask such a thing, but it was exciting too. So exciting that it made sparks tingle down Gerard’s spine. He’d never considered doing it before, not in any real sense… of course he couldn’t help what he dreamt about at night, or what fantasies came to him when he took care of himself, locked safely in his cottage… but he’d never believed for one second that he ever would have… _anyone_.

Grant considered for a moment, his heart racing. He wanted to say no, not because of Gerard’s inclinations, but because he couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else touching him. Now that Grant knew of his virginal state, his desire for him was at a fever pitch. It was only by swallowing hard and forcing himself to think rationally that he was able to (though reluctantly) admit that Gerard was not his, and he couldn’t ever request such a thing. If Gerard wanted someone else, then Grant would stand aside graciously. 

“You can do whatever you want.” He said quietly, idly stroking just his fingertips over Gerard’s shirt sleeve. “As long as you are discreet, which I’m sure you would be… I will protect you if needs be, but it would be best for everyone if the other staff simply didn’t find out.” 

Gerard was surprised, and oddly touched. He curled his fingers around Grant’s elbow and slid an inch closer to him. 

“Do you have someone in mind?” Grant asked curiously, unable to stop himself. “Some beautiful young man in the village perhaps? Some secret sweetheart you’ve been pushing away?” Grant couldn’t bear to hear about it, but at the same time his imagination could only make the situation worse. If there was some man in Gerard’s heart, he needed to know. 

Gerard laughed quietly and wrinkled his nose up, shaking his head. “Of course not.” He scoffed, and Grant’s heart soared. “I hardly leave the estate… and when I do go to the village, it’s not like I’m off socialising.” 

Grant chuckled and looked into Gerard’s handsome face. “That doesn’t matter. A man as handsome as you, you must draw attention everywhere you go.” 

Gerard looked surprised. “No.” He said softly, then laughed when he realised how serious Grant was. “I don’t think I’ve ever drawn attention anywhere.”

Grant didn’t believe that for one second. Far more likely that Gerard simply didn’t notice, and wasn’t that just sweet? Grant quite liked imagining Gerard drawing the gaze of other men, only to be utterly oblivious about it; especially when he imagined that the only man Gerard noticed in return was himself. 

_Must be the laudanum_ Grant told himself fiercely, mortified that he was thinking such things with Gerard sat so close. He also blamed the laudanum for what his mouth did next. 

“You draw my attention.” He said, soft and calm, like he wasn’t digging himself a pit so deep he’d never climb out of it. “You have from the first day I saw you.” 

Gerard’s fingers tightened slightly on Grant’s arm and he looked at him with a heavy gaze, his eyes dark. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but at the same time he knew that Grant wasn’t lying to him. The warm flush on his cheeks and down his neck couldn’t be faked, and Gerard wanted to see what the flush tasted like. 

“You should eat.” He said quietly, trying hard not to give into temptation and lean closer. “Mrs Jones will be upset if you don’t.” 

Gerard let go of Grant’s arm and Grant inhaled deeply, as though the hand on his elbow had been squeezing his lungs. He watched in what he was sure must be a drug induced haze as Gerard plucked one of the plums from the bowl and held it to his lips. 

“Eat.” He said firmly, his hazel eyes hot and dark. “Please.”

Grant was transfixed by Gerard’s gaze and he stared at him as he obediently parted his lips and sank his teeth into the fruit. The skin broke easily, the plum perfectly ripe, and as he bit into the flesh a drop of juice rolled from the corner of his lips and down his chin. 

“Mm.” Grant lifted a hand to wipe it away but Gerard beat him to it, his thumb skating along Grant’s jaw to his chin, sweeping away the juice. Grant froze, still with the plum at his mouth, and watched with wide eyes as Gerard lifted his thumb without thinking and licked the juice away. 

Grant’s cock began to stiffen, and his pulse quickened until he felt dizzy. He chewed slowly, trying to remember how to eat as Gerard took the plum away and bit into the other side himself, slurping up the juice that flowed before he chewed on the flesh between his teeth.

Gerard wasn’t sure what had possessed him, but Grant was looking at him with such a wonderful, dumbfounded look on his face that he simply couldn’t stop. 

“See?” He asked softly, swallowing his mouthful of the fruit and offering it to Grant again. “Perfectly ripe.” 

Grant could think of something else that was perfectly ripe too and he squeezed his thighs together beneath the covers, opening up silently as Gerard fed him another bite of the plum. He kept his eyes on him, wondering how a dream (because surely it was a dream) could feel so real, even as he sucked against the flesh of the plum, drawing its juices into his mouth. 

The plum was sweet and delicately flavoured, so juicy that each bite sent rivulets of liquid over Gerard’s fingers and down his palm. They shared it between them, taking bites out of it until all that was left was the stone from the middle. 

Gerard dropped the stone next to the bowl and then brought his fingers to Grant’s mouth. Without saying a word, Grant parted his lips and moaned in surprise when Gerard pressed his fingers over his tongue. His eyes were dark and full of hunger, and Grant sucked the juice from his fingers with vigour. 

Gerard watched him in silent astonishment, not sure what had come over him to act this way, and more importantly, what had come over _Grant_. Gerard was just a servant, his _gardener_ , and yet Grant was sucking on his fingers and fluttering his eyelids like he was in heaven.

“Can I kiss you?” Gerard asked breathlessly, pulling his fingers back until Grant was swirling his tongue over just the tips. Grant looked at him through his lashes, his cheeks and ears pink. He flicked his tongue between Gerard’s fingers, against the tender skin of his hand, and then nodded once. 

“Do you even need to ask?” 

Gerard laughed, the sound nervous and a little bit manic. 

“I suppose not.” He whispered, moving closer to Grant, his heart racing. He braced his hands on his shoulders, and after a moment's hesitation, lifted up to straddle his lap. His knees settled comfortably into the plush coverlet, and his hands slid over Grant’s shoulders, his fingers linking against the nape of his neck.

Their eyes met, and Grant had just enough time to think _this can’t be real_ before Gerard’s lips were on his, warm and soft and so very, very real.

Grant released the breath he had been holding, his lips parting so that Gerard could deepen the kiss. His inexperience was obvious, but utterly charming. He kissed Grant slowly and carefully, like he was worried he could do something wrong, but with slowly increasing confidence every time Grant made noises of encouragement into his mouth.

It took Grant a long second to remember to use his own hands and he quickly lifted them to Gerard’s hair, tangling into the soft locks and angling his head just right. The breathless moan he got in return made his blood run hot and he groaned against Gerard’s lips, opening up for his tongue and arching into his touch. 

Gerard curled his tongue behind Grant’s teeth, tasting the sweetness of the plum and the bitterness of the laudanum. He rocked into him, his body responding quickly after so many years of repressing what he wanted. He never imagined he could have this, let alone with Grant, and all too soon he was achingly hard in his trousers.

When Grant realised he pulled back, looking down at them and blushing. He had seen a good many erections in his time, but he felt like a virgin all over again to see Gerard’s. He brushed a hand down his stomach, his fingers trembling with anticipation, and slowly pressed his thumb against the tip of Gerard’s cock that was straining against the seam of his trousers.

Gerard gasped and his hips twitched forward all on their own. His cheeks were flaming red, and the heat travelled down beneath his shirt as Grant’s thumb made a slow, firm circle against his tip. 

“O - Oh wow…” He breathed, tightening his grip against the back of Grant’s neck. 

“Is this okay?” Grant asked quietly, so excited he thought he might burst. His hand lingered where it was, flat on Gerard’s stomach, his thumb stretched to touch just the tip of his cock. He waited until Gerard nodded, and then he pulled him back in for another kiss, his hand dipping lower. 

Gerard’s breath hitched when Grant’s fingers curled around the shape of his length, feeling out the size and shape of him. Grant gave an appreciative noise and squeezed, making Gerard’s shaft throb. 

Gerard was warming quickly to the kissing, excited to discover that it truly was as instinctual as people claimed. Whatever he did, Grant seemed to like it, and he eagerly explored the shape of his lips with his tongue, carefully following the cupid's bow and the crease of his lips until Grant’s tongue touched against his own, impossibly warm and intimate. 

Grant cupped his fingers around Gerard’s length and slowly sought out the buttons of his trousers. He eased the first open slowly, and when Gerard didn’t protest, flicked open the next much more quickly. 

Gerard moaned as some of the pressure in his trousers eased and he moved his own hands down, feeling over the wide expanse of Grant’s chest. He was only wearing a thin undershirt, and when Gerard splayed his fingers he could feel the hard nubs of his nipples pressing into his fingertips. 

“G - Gerard…” Grant tipped his head back and sighed heavily, his breaths coming short and uneven as Gerard curiously tweaked one nipple. The sensation zeroed in on Grant’s erection, which was tenting his underwear beneath the covers; a drop of preejaculate soaked the fabric, but Grant was far too enamoured to feel the slightest bit embarrassed.

“Good?” Gerard asked breathlessly, stroking his fingertips over Grant’s other nipple as well. He wondered where else would make Grant moan, and wished they had time to explore one another properly. 

“So good… so good Gerard.” Grant nibbled at the corner of Gerard’s mouth and arched into his touch. He worked the third and fourth buttons of his trousers open and then pushed the fly open to reach inside. Gerard’s cock was hot and swollen, hard enough that the slightest coaxing had him jutting out of his trousers. 

Gerard groaned softly and fell forward, hiding his face in Grant’s neck. He could feel his pulse in his cockhead, and when Grant tucked his fingers into his underwear he could feel how slick he had become. Grant swirled his fingers through the wet, using it to lubricate his movements as he eased Gerard’s foreskin down further. 

“O - Oh God-!” Gerard’s hips stuttered forward, pleasure making him feel dizzy. It was so good; so much better than his own hand had ever felt and Grant was barely touching him yet. Gerard would have felt foolish, only Grant was making such low, eager noises that he only felt powerful. How was it that _he_ could make Mr Morrison moan like that? It should have been impossible and yet…

“I want to taste you.” Grant suddenly announced, his voice raspy but determined. “May I? Oh please Gerard, please say I can.” 

Gerard blinked, dazed. “Yes.” He said dumbly, not entirely sure what he was agreeing to. “Yes, Mr Morrison-”

“Grant.” Grant said firmly, licking a wet stripe up the length of Gerard’s throat. 

“Grant.” Gerard corrected himself, his cock dripping. “Yes Grant, whatever you want.” 

_A dangerous promise_ Grant thought to himself, his mind turning over the many, _many_ fantasies he had had about Gerard so far. He wanted to experience all of them, wanting to take everything, wanted to _give_ everything. God, he wanted to give most of all. 

“Can you kneel up higher?” He asked eagerly, pushing Gerard’s trousers down to his thighs and keeping his eyes closed so he wouldn’t peek at him just yet. He wanted to look at him for the first time when he was right close, ready to push into his mouth. “I’d wriggle down just… my ankle…”

“Oh, of course.” Gerard was shaking but he did as Grant asked, carefully lifting himself up onto his knees and then higher, until the tip of his erection was a breath away from Grant’s mouth. It felt rude to stand with it in his face, but when Grant opened his eyes, he looked delighted. 

“Perfect.” He whispered, making Gerard’s heart skip a beat. Grant ran his hands up his thighs, fingers spread wide to touch as much of him as possible. When he reached his sack he curled his fingers tenderly around it, his thumb smoothing over the velvet hairs and pressing between his stones. 

Gerard gasped and closed his eyes, clinging to Grant’s shoulders for dear life as his cock wept another tear of preejaculate. 

Grant licked his lips and leaned in close, inhaling Gerard’s scent with a low moan. He had a very pretty cock, and that wasn’t something Grant thought often; his tip was the colour of pink peonies, and as Grant curled his fingers around him and began to gently stroke his foreskin back and forth, he got to witness the pink deepen until it was more like the shade of a dahlia. 

“I have yearned for this…” Grant confessed on a quiet whisper, leaning in to slowly swirl his tongue around Gerard’s glans. He tasted the bitterness of his precome and moaned huskily, sipping at his slit until his lips were glistening with more pearly drops. 

Gerard watched him with his mouth hanging open, his eyelids drooping. He had never seen anything more incredible and his abdominal muscles clenched, making his erection bob up towards his stomach. 

Grant followed it eagerly, lifting his chin and humming to himself as he licked a wet line from root to tip. It was exciting to know that no one else had ever tasted Gerard before, and so he took his time, using just the tip of his tongue to thoroughly explore the sensitive crown and fraenulum. He tongued at the delicate edge of his foreskin, pushing it back further before gradually closing his lips around the head and swallowing him into his mouth.

Gerard’s moan became choked in his throat, the sensation of Grant’s mouth around him almost too much, and yet he couldn’t stop himself from pushing his hips forward to feel _more_. He grabbed at Grant’s thin undershirt, bunching the fabric in his hands and threw his head back, breathing hard.

Grant watched him through his eyelashes, his own erection aching. He sucked greedily and took Gerard as deep as he could, showing off despite knowing that the man had no frame of reference. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked on the upstroke, slurping at his tip before swallowing him down again. Over and over he went, bobbing his head and losing himself in the glorious rhythm of it. 

“Mngh… mm…” Grant used both hands to touch, one hand fondling Gerard’s sack whilst the other worked his base whenever his lips weren’t closed around it. 

Gerard had always wondered what it would feel like to be touched like this. He wasn’t so naive as to not know what people got up to… he’d just never had the chance himself, and now he was wondering how he could have possibly lived without it. Grant was making him feel like his whole body was on fire, and for once, Gerard didn’t care what anyone else might think. He couldn’t imagine any woman making him feel like this, in fact, he couldn’t imagine any other man making him feel like this… there was only one. Only Grant.

It was no surprise when Gerard’s orgasm came quickly, his body responding beautifully to the slightest touch. Grant felt it coming in the way his balls drew up tight, the way his cock throbbed on his tongue, and Gerard began to gasp, pushing at his shoulders to try and make him lean back. 

“O - Oh, oh God, G - Grant, Grant!” Gerard couldn’t warn him fast enough and he cried out as he came, spilling his release over Grant’s tongue. He continued trying to fight it for a moment, but then he felt Grant swallow around him and heard him moan and he realised he _liked_ it. 

A fresh wave of pleasure pulled Gerard under and this time he pushed forward, so lost in his desire that he fucked into Grant’s mouth, forcing him to take more and more as he jerked and shook and came for what felt like an eternity. 

Gerard made soft, whimpering sounds when it was over, his cock sensitive. He pulled back slowly, hands trembling, and slumped back down into Grant’s lap with a dazed expression on his face. It took him a moment, but when he saw the stupid grin on Grant’s face he started to laugh, his euphoria making him giddy. 

Grant beamed and held Gerard closer, brushing his kisses to his jaw now incase he wasn’t the type of man who liked to taste himself on another’s tongue, but Gerard surprised him by turning into his kisses, capturing Grant’s lips with his own. It dulled his laughter, but didn’t kill it completely and the two of them kissed messily between strings of ridiculous giggles.

When they at last pulled away, Gerard seemed to realise something and his eyes went wide. 

“Oh… I should -” He reached down to touch Grant, nervous but excited, but Grant stopped him. 

“Please don’t feel obligated.” He said softly, moving Gerard’s hand away with a kind smile. “I realise this has happened rather quickly…”

Gerard sat back slightly, considering that. Just a short while ago he’d been climbing the stairs to see Grant, intent on begging him not to out him to the other servants and kick him out of his home, and now… Now he was tingling with the aftershocks of an orgasm. 

“It is quick…” He said slowly, wondering why that didn’t bother him as much as it should. “But-” 

Before Gerard could finish, a noise caught his ear. He went tense, sitting bolt upright to listen. Grant frowned, confused, but before he could ask what was happening Gerard had leapt from the bed and was racing to do up his trousers. 

“Gerard-?” Grant leaned forward, anxiety nibbling at him. 

“I have to go.” Gerard said quickly, tucking his shirt back in and rushing to Grant’s washbowl to splash some cool water over his flushed cheeks. “Mrs Jones is bringing you some soup soon.” Gerard turned to go, but it was too late, Mrs Jones was already at the door. 

“How are you feeling now sir- oh.” She paused a few feet into the room, blinking in surprise at Gerard. “Mr Way, you’re still here?”

“I was just leaving.” Gerard smiled quickly and sidled to the door, nodding over at the bowl of plums to distract Mrs Jones. “I’m afraid I’ve been talking rather a lot about the produce of the garden, but Mr Morrison did enjoy the plums.”

“Oh, wonderful!” Gerard’s tactic worked and Mrs Jones turned to smile at Grant, thrilled to hear he had eaten. “I’m so glad to hear it. I was just coming to see if you were feeling up to some dinner, but I’ll fetch it right away.” 

Grant blinked, confused, and looked over Mrs Jones’ shoulder. Gerard was scarpering out of the door, and Grant couldn’t call him back without making Mrs Jones suspicious. He was glad that he at least had the heavy duvet hiding his erection and he sighed heavily, forcing a smile as he nodded at Mrs Jones. 

“Thank you, dinner would be lovely.” 

***

For a week, Grant was forced to lay in bed, and Gerard did not come to visit again. 

As each day went by without his presence, Grant became more and more anxious. He ate the bowl of plums alone, and insisted to Mrs Jones that he had taken his laudanum already whenever she tried to give him a dose. If Gerard came back then he wanted to be absolutely sure that he wasn’t imagining a single thing, even though deep down he knew that the laudanum hadn’t affected him enough to make him imagine what had transpired. 

By the time the week was through and Grant was allowed to get out of bed, he had only one thing on his mind. 

_Gerard_

Was he avoiding him? Did he regret what had happened? Had Grant taken things too far, too quickly? 

He had to find out. If he had ruined all of his chances with the man then he wasn’t sure how he would cope with living in the manor any longer. He would be forced to go back to London to live his days in shame, knowing he had lost the one person who made him feel… _so much_.

“Are you sure you should be going outside sir?” Mrs Jones fussed over Grant as he pulled on his coat, his cane leaning against the wall. “Surely a gentle stroll around the house would be better?”

“I’ll be fine Mrs Jones.” Grant said firmly, buttoning up his coat and then grabbing his cane. “I feel fine, and I’ll rest often.” His ankle was much better than it was, but it did ache to walk on it and he feared falling again. But nothing was going to stop him from seeing Gerard. 

“But sir-”

“Don’t fret Mrs Jones.” Grant pulled open the door and stepped out into the cool autumn air. “I shall be gentle with myself.” He promised her over his shoulder, smiling as he limped down the path towards the gardens. 

He was pleasantly surprised when Mrs Jones closed the door and didn’t try to follow him, and some of the tightness in his chest eased. It was a beautiful day, with the first brush of red over the leaves in the trees, but Grant didn’t pause to savour it.

Tuesday’s were Gerard’s day off, so Grant made a beeline for his cottage. He couldn’t walk terribly fast, but he pushed himself to go as quickly as he dared, leaning heavily on the cane to keep the weight off his bad ankle as much as possible. 

Even so, by the time he reached the cottage he was panting and his ankle was protesting fiercely. Grant hoped that Gerard would be in and feeling merciful, his knuckles rapping sharply on the door as soon as he could reach. 

Grant breathed deeply to catch his breath whilst he waited, feeling nervous and jittery. When he heard a lock being unbolted he had the insane urge to run, and if his ankle hadn’t been aching so much he might even have tried. 

“Mr Morris- Grant.” Gerard blushed when he opened the door to him, his eyes going wide. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to see you.” Grant smiled warmly and tried his best to stand tall and proud despite the cane at his side. “Can I come in?”

Gerard didn’t even hesitate. “Of course.” He stood aside to let Grant by, his own smile gentle and curious. He took Grant’s coat from him and hung it on a stand by the door and then beckoned for him to follow through to the kitchen that Grant had once peered into through the cottage window. 

“I was just about to make some tea, would you like some?” Gerard was in the process of laying out a tea tray, and Grant thanked him as he nodded. 

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.” He sat down at the table when Gerard pulled a chair out for him, the man surprisingly calm and at ease. He was dressed more handsomely than Grant had ever seen him, his dirty and patched gardening clothes replaced by soft black trousers and a white collared shirt. He had the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, and Grant was fascinated by the sight of his pale forearms as he sliced up a tea loaf and buttered each piece liberally. 

“I wasn’t sure how long you needed to stay in bed for.” Gerard spoke lightly as he worked. “I’m glad to see you up and about again.” He looked up, his eyes warm. “Is the cane permanent?”

“God no.” Grant laughed awkwardly, feeling all jittery again for an entirely new reason. “Just for a few weeks, all being well.” He sat with his hands in his lap, his stomach full of butterflies. Sitting in Gerard’s home, with the man so confident and relaxed before him was making him all hot and nervous. 

“That’s good.” Gerard said idly, laying the tea loaf onto two small plates. “I hope you haven’t set back your recovery by coming here. If I’d known you were coming I would have met you at the house to assist you.” 

Grant’s chest squeezed and his cheeks went pink. “You would?” He breathed, touched. “I thought you were avoiding me.” He laughed quietly, but how seriously he had worried was obvious in the anxious creases around his eyes. “You rushed out so suddenly last week and… and I haven’t heard from you…”

Gerard blushed, but he met Grant’s gaze bravely. “I wanted to come back, but I couldn’t think of an excuse.” He said softly. “It’s not like the gardener can just start paying you daily house visits all of a sudden, is it?”

Grant pursed his lips, but he couldn’t argue. Even if no one else thought it strange, Mrs Jones would soon notice if Gerard was coming to see him for no real reason. 

“I suppose…” He agreed begrudgingly. “I was worried you might have been having… regrets.” 

“Regrets?” Gerard looked honestly surprised. “Why? Have you?” He asked softly, his face so open and honest that it made Grant breathless. 

“Not even a little bit.” He said without thinking, his heart racing. “I’d wanted to kiss you for the longest time.” 

Gerard smiled indulgently and moved around the table to approach Grant, his fingertips drifting over the table top. 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think this past week.” He said slowly, coming to a halt beside Grant’s chair. “Is that why you always came to see me? Because you…” Gerard thought for a moment, his fingers sliding closer towards Grant. “Because you liked me?”

Grant swallowed thickly, his eyes fixed on Gerard, unable to look away. “Yes.” He confessed, voice soft with embarrassment. “I just wanted to see you all the time.” 

Gerard looked delighted and he took Grant by surprise by leaning down towards him, cupping his jaw in one hand so he could guide his head up for a tender kiss, soft and sweet. He kissed him with more confidence than he had a week ago, and he only stopped when the whistle of the kettle interrupted them. 

Grant was left breathless and smiling, his lips tingling as Gerard pulled away to make the tea. He poured into two chipped, china teacups which Grant imagined had probably come from the manor. Mrs Jones would have thrown them away the moment they were no longer perfect, and knowing that Gerard had taken them and given them a new home made Grant feel warm inside. 

“I don’t have sugar.” Gerard apologised as he slid one of the cups to Grant. “But I have honey.”

They had their own hives on the estate, and Grant imagined that was where Gerard got his honey from. It was in a simple glass jar with a piece of the comb floating inside, and Grant felt another rush of affection when Gerard stirred a healthy dollop into his tea. 

“I make the tea loaf myself.” Gerard slid one of the plates to Grant with a soft smile. “My mother’s recipe.”

Grant tried a piece and hummed his approval. It was sticky and loaded with currants, spiced with exotic cinnamon and nutmeg, a luxury that Gerard would only be able to afford because of how well Grant paid his staff. It made Grant happy to know that he spent his money on something like that, so that he could bake in his cottage and eat tea loaf in an afternoon.

“This is delicious.” He said honestly, gazing into Gerard’s eyes across the table. 

“Thank you.” Gerard looked thrilled. “My mother made it every Christmas with what currants we had left from making the Christmas cake. It was such an extravagance to us… she’d think I was rich if she knew I have one nearly every week now.” 

Grant chuckled along with Gerard, his eyes shining. He decided not to go into the plethora of sweet treats his own family used to eat at Christmas, and instead asked more about Gerard’s parents. 

They talked without pause as they devoured half the loaf between them and an entire pot of tea. Grant learnt that Gerard’s parents had both died when he was young, and that he had a younger brother, Michael, who had gone to Glasgow to “seek his fortune” and had had a string of good luck that led him to running one of the most prestigious hotels in the city. 

Gerard talked of him with great fondness, and Grant wondered how long it had been since he had last seen him. Glasgow was far enough away that it may as well have been separated by an ocean, but Grant would gladly allow Gerard the use of one of his carriages to make the journey more comfortable.

Once the tea had been drunk and the loaf devoured, Grant leaned back in his chair with a happy sigh. He stretched his legs out long, and smiled when he felt Gerard’s foot gently nudge his own. 

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you…” He said quietly, taking Grant by surprise. “What happened last week was…” Gerard struggled for the right word and laughed when he whispered, “wonderful.”

Grant blinked, stunned. “I thought so too.” He replied, the butterflies in his stomach returning. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you either.”

Gerard rose to his feet, his eyes full of affection as he strolled around the table to Grant again. He pushed his chair out, holding Grant’s gaze without fear, and slowly lowered himself down into his lap so that his thighs spread across Grant’s pelvis. 

The flash of heat that swept through Grant was sudden and intense, making his face pink and his breath shorten. His hands came instinctively to Gerard’s waist, cupping him through the soft fabric of his shirt. 

“I think I owe you something…” Gerard dipped his head so he could brush a soft, teasing kiss to Grant’s lips. “I’m sorry I had to rush out last time… Was it terribly painful?” He asked curiously, one hand coming down to cup between Grant’s legs. 

“O-oh…” Grant had had all manner of fantasies when it came to Gerard; in some of them he imagined him as being shy and naive, blushing in his bed with his legs held together, like he was afraid to be seen as wanton… In others, he imagined him as being bold and confident, taking whatever he wanted and leaving Grant a gooey, trembling mess. If he had been asked to choose which of the two he thought the _real_ Gerard was most likely to be like, he’d have said the shy version of him every time; but it would seem he was wrong. 

“I was fine.” Grant’s eyelids grew heavy as Gerard slowly cupped his fingers around him, finding the shape of his length and just holding it so he could feel the way Grant stiffened against his palm. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself, when needs be…”

Gerard laughed quietly and nuzzled more kisses to the underside of Grant’s jaw, inhaling deep to breathe in his scent. “I’d like to see that.” He whispered, giving Grant a gentle squeeze and humming to himself when he immediately thickened in his hand. “Did you think about me?”

Grant moaned quietly and tipped his head back. “Gerard… I _always_ think about you.” 

Gerard’s smile was obvious against his throat, baring his teeth enough to graze gently over his skin. He explored the shape of Grant’s Adams apple and then kissed lower until he could lick the hollow of flesh between his collarbones. At this time in the afternoon all the staff would be busy, and no one ever came to visit Gerard on his day off, so he moved without haste. He knew that they would not be interrupted. 

“I always think about you too.” He whispered, and Grant was amazed to hear how much he meant it. Little did he know, that whilst he had been laid up in bed with nothing better to do than think about Gerard and touch himself; his gardener had been doing the same thing every night the past week, falling into bed early just so he could dream about Grant and try to work the sexual frustration away with his own hands.

“I’ve been thinking about tasting you.” Gerard nibbled as far down as Grant’s shirt would allow. “I want to make you feel as good as you made me feel… I want to try…” 

“Gerard…” Grant could hardly believe what he was hearing and his cock was very much on board. He was achingly hard already, straining in his trousers as Gerard ever so gently rubbed him with his palm. “You… You can do… whatever you want to me…” 

Gerard hummed low in his throat, liking that promise very much indeed. There was a whole world opening up to him that he had not yet experienced, and he could think of no one he wanted to explore with more than Grant. There were a dozen things he knew he wanted to try, and then he was sure there would be dozens more that Grant could share with him that he wouldn’t have even imagined in his wildest dreams… But for now, there was only one thing on his mind.

“Are you comfortable here?” He asked softly as he slid from Grant’s lap and slowly to his knees. “We can move to my bed if you prefer, but the stairs might be difficult for you…”

Grant was touched by Gerard’s concern, but the stairs were not so much of an obstacle as tearing his eyes away from Gerard was. Seeing him on his knees before him, almost under the table, his hands on Grant’s thighs, was so like one of his fantasies (where he imagined Gerard beneath his writing desk, sucking at him and distracting him from getting any work done) that Grant couldn’t bear to move anywhere else. 

“H - Here is fine…” He whispered, feeling a little self-conscious as Gerard beamed at him and started on opening his trousers. “If you’re sure… I mean, you’re not just doing this because you feel you have to pay me back or… or anything?” 

Grant blushed fiercely when Gerard gave him a stern look, his lips pursing to one side. “No.” He said simply, and then rolled his eyes. “I’m doing this because I want to.” Gerard didn’t know how there could be any confusion on that matter. He certainly didn’t need to ask Grant to clarify his own desire, because it was pretty obvious in the way his erection visibly twitched in his trousers. 

“I’ve never done this before.” Gerard reminded him as he reached inside and pulled him carefully through the gap he’d created by undoing each of the buttons except for the top one. “Please give me advice if I’m not very good.”

Grant laughed low in his throat and shook his head. “Gerard, you can’t possibly be anything other than perfect.” He said confidently, knowing already that even to have Gerard’s mouth on him at all was going to be the sweetest form of torture. He only hoped that he wouldn’t be so good as to have him coming too quickly - how mortifying it would be if he ended up making a fool of himself when Gerard clearly believed him to be so experienced.

Gerard didn’t respond, and after two seconds of silence that felt like eternity, Grant glanced down to see Gerard staring at him, open mouthed… or rather, at his erection, which was thick and painfully hard, eager to get going. 

“Gerard-?”

“I didn’t know…” Gerard breathed, and then Grant realised what was so astonishing to him. He was pulling his foreskin back gently, so that his thumb could delicately touch the underside of the gold ring that was pierced through his glans. 

“Oh.” Grant didn’t know what to tell him. “It’s very popular in London.” He said mildly, his cheeks blazing as he waited to hear what Gerard would think. 

All of his partners in the city had barely looked twice - most of them had adornments of their own. It was a way for men of a certain social status to prove their wealth; if you could afford such expensive jewellery, and have access to clean water and the necessary aftercare tonics to keep the piercing clean and healthy, then you had to be at least moderately rich. But in all honesty, Grant had gotten his a few years ago purely because he’d wanted to. He’d slept with a pretty young thing who had both his penis and his nipples pierced and like a magpie, Grant had been dazzled by the glimmer of the gold.

“Does it hurt?” Gerard asked curiously, breathless with wonder. He was massaging his fingers around the underside of Grant’s glans almost without thinking, keeping him hard and wanting whilst his other hand came up so he could tap the gold ring. 

“Not at all.” Grant’s cock jumped as Gerard’s tapping made the ring stimulate the nerves inside his urethra. “It actually increases pleasure…” His voice was husky with the proof of that. “For me, and for my partner… so some have said.”

Gerard blinked up at him, amazed. He wasn’t in the least bit jealous to hear about past partners, if anything he was just even more fascinated. What pleasure could the ring bring to him? He was eager to find out. 

“It’s so beautiful.” He whispered, his eyes drawn to it like a dragon seeing a new piece of treasure. “May I-?” He hovered his fingers around it, eager to touch it properly. 

“Oh, yes, it moves quite freely.” Grant was positively quivering, trying hard to speak normally despite the way that Gerard’s interest was making his lust spike higher and higher. His cock was starting to grow wet at the tip, tormented by the promise of action and yet having to wait. The slick helped move the ring though, which Gerard clasped gently and spun in a slow circle, watching with wide eyes as it slipped easily through the urethra and out of the pierced hole in the glans. The ring was plain but beautiful, shiny like it was brand new and Gerard was captivated. 

“I wonder how it tastes…” He whispered thoughtfully, more to himself than to Grant, and leaned forward without any prompting. 

Grant gasped and gripped the edges of his seat tight when Gerard closed his lips around the head of his cock, drawing back slowly until he could clamp his lips around the ring and pull ever so gently. Nerves that rarely got so much attention fired to life and Grant wet Gerard’s lips with another pearl of ejaculate, his breath hitching.

Gerard closed his eyes and made a soft, breathless sound of delight. He licked around the ring and then behind it, lapping into Grant’s slit to taste more of him. The gold didn’t taste like much at all, and was surprisingly warm. But Grant tasted just how Gerard had always imagined a man would - bitter and salty, with a sweetness that came from the skin. His cockhead was soft and smooth when he swirled his tongue around it, and his foreskin was velvety soft over the solid length of his shaft. 

Gerard’s curiosity got the better of him, and he shuffled forward, opening his mouth wide to take as much of Grant in as he possibly could. He was much thicker than Gerard was, so that his jaw ached pleasantly from the moment he took him in, and too long for him to possibly swallow him all the way down as Grant had done for him.

Gerard wrapped his hand around what he couldn’t fit into his mouth, and pulled back to breathe. He had no idea what sort of technique he should use, but Grant was tense and shivering under him, like he was already close, and he didn’t make a single word of complaint when Gerard took his time to explore his tip again.

“Is this… good?” Gerard asked breathlessly, mouthing the words against his fraenulum, his tongue lapping at his piercing. He was enraptured with it, unable to leave it alone, enjoying the sensation of it on his tongue and in his mouth far too much. He especially liked when he got to pull on it, every so carefully, and Grant’s thighs would go tense beneath his palms. 

“G - Good?” Grant’s head was swimming and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Gerard… Y - You’re a marvel…” 

Confidence surged through Gerard, making the back of his neck go warm and he smiled to himself as he swirled his tongue slowly along the underside of Grant’s shaft. He was just exploring, really. Testing what sort of sounds Grant made when he kissed him here or nibbled at him there… he brushed his nose into his trousers as far as he could, feeling the soft hairs of his sack, and then tipped his head up so he could lick all the way back to the underside of Grant’s tip. 

He leaned up, swallowing him into his mouth again and tried to take more of him this time. He relaxed his jaw, using his hand to tilt Grant’s cock up against his soft palate, and moaned low in his throat. He could feel the ring pressing against the back of his mouth, and he sucked firmly to try and stimulate Grant at the same time. 

Grant moaned softly, sounding strained and raspy, spurring Gerard on. He used his tongue to bring his erection down again, lining him up more centrally so he could bob his head slowly back and forth as Grant had done for him. He was rewarded with the bitter taste of ejaculate again and his own cock throbbed in his trousers. He set up a gentle rhythm, suckling and licking like Grant was covered in honey, and allowed his mind to wander slightly…

He thought of the gold ring, and how Grant had said it brought pleasure to his partners too. He wondered how it would feel to sit in Grant’s lap and let their lengths touch, to rub against him and tease the ring with the tip of his own cock. He wondered how it would feel to nudge it between his legs, and let Grant tease him there like he was a woman… such a thought was dark and lustful, and it made him moan hungrily around Grant’s cock in his mouth.

Grant had no idea what Gerard was thinking about, but he was sure he must be thinking about _something_. The slow, careful way he had been exploring him had morphed into something that felt more natural and mindless, Gerard’s sucking mouth getting Grant close incredibly quickly. 

The way Gerard was moaning and breathing heavily through his nose made it sound like he was the one getting fucked, and Grant was painfully tempted to suggest it. It was only the knowledge that they were already going so fast that made him hold back. 

Sleeping with men in London for fun was one thing; but being Gerard’s first kiss, first partner, first _love_ was something Grant would not rush. 

_Love_. God, was that how he felt? He did right then, and he wasn’t sure it was just because he could feel his orgasm tightening the muscles in his abdomen. How could he not love the man? He was so creative and kind, so sweet and so _curious_. Far more open than Grant had expected, eager to explore and so confident despite his lack of experience. 

“Oh Gerard…” Grant suddenly reached out to tangle his fingers into his hair, unable to stop himself. Gerard was picking up speed, finding his confidence and stroking his fist down Grant’s shaft with each upward suck. It was enough to have Grant barrelling to the edge, his chest heaving as he began to pant and writhe, struggling to stifle the moans that kept rolling off his tongue. 

“O - Oh God, Gerard… Gerard stop… You must stop or I’ll… I’ll come and-” Grant was already there, pulling desperately on Gerard’s hair to get him to pull back. 

Gerard did, just in time, but instead of leaning out of the way he gave Grant a wicked look and opened his mouth wide. He cradled Grant’s cockhead with his tongue and held his gaze, daring him to pull away as he stroked his erection faster and faster, bringing him to orgasm with such efficiency that Grant saw stars. 

Gerard jumped in surprise at the first rope of ejaculate, even though he’d been expecting it. Grant swelled in his fist, and another rope whipped over the first. Gerard held still, his body tense as he slowed his hand just slightly so he wouldn’t cause Grant’s release to spill anywhere other than his waiting tongue. 

It took until he’d stopped pulsing before Grant realised he’d been shouting, his eyes closed. He opened them slowly, still shaking with the force of his pleasure, and looked down in astonishment. Gerard was waiting for him to look, his tongue still held beneath his glans, and only when he was sure that Grant was watching him did he pull it back and close his mouth. 

“Dear heavenly father…” Grant whispered, his fingers twitching in Gerard’s hair. He waited, half expecting Gerard to turn and subtly spit into a handkerchief, but Gerard just climbed up into his lap and kissed him, all open mouth and seeking tongue. 

Grant could taste himself in his mouth, but was stunned to realise that Gerard had already swallowed every last drop. 

***

From that day on, Grant should have known that Gerard Way was only ever going to keep surprising him, and yet he was still, endlessly… _surprised_.

His ankle took eight weeks to heal in the end, probably because Grant spent so much time limping around the gardens after Gerard long after he knew he ought to be resting. It was always worth it though, because Gerard had had a fire ignited in him and he always repaid Grant’s restless following with deep, searching kisses or quick, adrenaline-fuelled trysts in places they really ought to have been more careful.

Gerard had sucked him again in the greenhouse, when he’d gone to check on the tomatoes, and they would have been caught by one of the kitchen girls if she hadn’t been whistling on her walk across the grass. 

Grant had to hide like a thief beneath the tables of salad leaves, whilst Gerard casually helped the girl select what produce she needed for the meal that evening. 

Then they’d almost been caught again, when they’d been frotting together beneath the willow tree, all messy kisses and hands inside one another’s clothes and Mrs Jones had come trotting across the pond bridge, calling Grant’s name and muttering to herself. 

They’d both frozen and held their breath, hands on one another’s erections, until Mrs Jones eventually wandered away. They’d finished up amidst breathless giggles, and Grant had had to scuttle back to the house with grass stains on his trousers, to pretend he’d been sat in the library the whole time.

It made the weeks fly by so quickly that Christmas approached before Grant even realised the time of year. Heavy snowfalls cut the house off from the nearby town, and Mrs Jones followed Grant around for days to force him into arranging Christmas parties and to accept various invitations from other lords and ladies. 

Grant reluctantly agreed to it all, but insisted on keeping Christmas day their own. 

“I want to spend it with you and the other staff.” He said firmly when Mrs Jones tried to insist on inviting all and sundry to dinner. “It’s my first Christmas back at home and you are more like my family than anyone else. I want to spend it together. All of us. We shall dine together and exchange gifts.” Grant wouldn’t be swayed on the matter, and Mrs Jones went surprisingly quiet. 

“You… You called this place home.” She whispered in explanation when Grant looked at her in confusion. She had tears in her eyes, and Grant blushed, mortified as she began to cry. 

“Oh… Mrs Jones, don’t. I’m sorry, I -”

“Don’t be sorry.” She laughed, batting his fussing hands away, though she did accept his handkerchief to dab at her eyes. “I just know that everyone will be thrilled to spend Christmas with you, as your family.” She said softly before bursting into fresh tears. 

Grant hovered around her, unsure of what to do. “Well… Well that’s good… Isn’t it?” He asked meekly. 

Mrs Jones laughed again and nodded, turning away with her face still pressed into the handkerchief. “I’ll make the necessary arrangements.” She squeaked, rushing away quickly and leaving Grant unsure of whether to be worried or amused. 

He sighed and turned, glancing out of the window to see Gerard trekking through the snow outside. He was bundled up in so many layers that he just looked like a pair of feet sticking out of a hundred coats, and a heavy winter hat protruding from a tyre of scarves. He was using a length of rope to drag a pine tree behind him, one of the many that Mrs Jones insisted on decorating the house with.

Grant watched him with a smile on his face, his stomach swirling. There was hot wine brewing in the kitchen and boxes upon boxes of ornaments had been brought down from the attic. Grant decided he would insist on decorating one of the trees himself, with Gerard’s help of course, and already he was tingling at the thought of getting to kiss the man’s ice cold nose. 

_Home_ Grant thought to himself with a warm smile. _That’s what home is_ , and he made his way to the kitchen to greet Gerard at the door.


End file.
